


Snipe Hunt

by NebulousMistress



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 11:45:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11943492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NebulousMistress/pseuds/NebulousMistress
Summary: The Northeast Pier is not known for its stability. Too weird. Too flooded. Too haunted.Wait, haunted?





	Snipe Hunt

**Author's Note:**

> This can be considered related to [Of the Phantom of the Hallway](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10595670). At least the premise is similar.

The corridor on the Northeast Pier near the flooded section was haunted.

Everyone said so. The entire military believed it at one point or another. Over time the idea grew laughable and it became something to frighten new recruits with. It was even folded into the military introduction as a final 'oh by the way' before dismissal. Everyone had a good laugh about it then forgot about it until their first patrol assignment.

But the corridor was haunted by something.

Ever since the second year there'd been reports of music drifting up from the abandoned corridor near the flooded section.

Nobody knew where it was coming from. Nobody ever found a secret room or a hidden lab in the area. ATA-active people all reported the corridor was occupied by something but that the city wouldn't cooperate. Not even Colonel Sheppard got a good answer.

Or maybe he did. He did seem to do a lot of smirking when asked about it. New recruits were invariably assigned to the haunted corridor after certain incidents; they all returned from their patrol pale and shaking with a new respect for the city and its secrets. But if Sheppard knew anything he never said aloud. At least, not to anyone who would betray his confidence.

When Richard Woolsey found himself in the abandoned corridors off the Northeast Pier he recalled some of the complaints the IOA fielded from those marines who washed out of Atlantis. The IOA's stance was clear: hauntings weren't real, ghosts didn't exist, it must all be some prank pulled by the Atlantis veterans to scare the new recruits. It was the responsibility of the expedition head to control these pranks, which was why Woolsey was down here.

The corridor was empty, stained, it still stank of rotting salt even after five years above the water line. The lights flickered, lending an ominous feel to the area. The air was cold, oppressive, it had a presence to it. No wonder the new recruits thought this place was haunted.

The music was almost an afterthought. But there was music. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, echoing along the corridor from neither end. It was loudest here, or was it here, or over there?

The corridor was empty. The sconces were missing, damaged, the single sconce on the corner flickered almost as though it were full of fire.

Woolsey took a deep breath and tried not to shake. He wanted to run, to leave this area. But there were reports, complaints, worse of all there would be the others who insisted this meant the haunting was real.

It wasn't real. There had to be an explanation.

Woolsey took another deep breath and began to sing to calm his nerves.

The music stopped. It didn't stop easily, either, it sounded like hands slammed onto a piano's keys, discordant and sudden.

The wall slid open. Looming darkness gaped where the wall once stood. Sconces inside lit one by one, showing a corridor that led deeper into the city.

“Hello?” Woolsey called.

And then the mystery was solved.

*****

The corridor on the Northeast Pier was haunted.

Everyone knew it. But before it had just been music, wordless music drifting from the depths of nowhere, the ocean itself ringing with sounds both familiar and not, instruments known and unknown. Sometimes a piano, sometimes an organ, sometimes the mournful call of the Lantean flagisallus left behind on their lonely world.

Now it was worse.

Now there was a voice. Sometimes it sang in English, sometimes in Italian, sometimes the listener would swear it was some alien language. Ancient, perhaps. Or maybe Latin. It was hard to tell the two apart sometimes.

This new development drew Sheppard to the haunted corridor. He knew the secret. That was why he allowed it, even sent the problem recruits down here to get spooked. A healthy fear of the city was necessary to survive here and this 'haunting' was perfectly harmless. In fact, it was pretty funny.

But now things had changed. There was a voice added to the music. That wasn't right.

Sheppard closed his eyes and let the city tell him where people were. The secret door opened for him as soon as he had assurance no one would see. The hidden corridor descended in front of him, sconces lighting the way down below the water line. He glanced back and forth to reassure his senses before stepping inside. The door closed behind him.

Music drifted from below. The music itself was simple, only the fact that he knew how it was being played made it complex. But there were words.

_The clock struck midnight_  
_And through my sleeping_  
_I heard a tapping on my door_  
_I looked but nothing lay in the darkness_  
_And so I turned inside once more_

This was a lab once. That much was certain. But it was not a respected lab. It produced nothing useful for the war against the Wraith, it gave no information Earth was interested in. Therefore it had been cataloged and the paperwork lost. Of course some of the linguists would love to get their hands on this place but with the gate translation program there was little need. Thus Atlantis had priorities. Wraith first, fun later.

Except Dr. Rodney McKay did not follow that rule. But then, Rodney had been under enough stress those first years holding the expedition together with duct tape and shouting. Now that they were a little better equipped it was too late to stop the rumors.

Besides, it was funny.

The music stopped.

Sheppard stared in disbelief. “What the heck?” he demanded.

Rodney sat at the lab bench in front of what he affectionately called his 'roll up piano'. The name was a misnomer in that it was a blank sheet of white roll-up glass, it wasn't a piano at all. It merely sounded like a piano when the user wanted it to. Or a drum set or a guitar or whatever language one wanted. With enough focus it could be many instruments at once. Rodney even claimed he used it to check code by converting the coding language into music.

But he wasn't alone.

“Colonel Sheppard,” Woolsey greeted.

Why was Woolsey even here? Sure he'd hit the new recruits hard with the 'haunted corridor' schtick and was delighted when Woolsey took the bait. But he was down here and... “That means you sing,” Sheppard concluded aloud.

“You sound so enthused,” Rodney said. “I know, I was surprised too. I'm down here minding my own business then suddenly I hear this voice in the corridor.”

“Dr. McKay explained the basics of the setup here,” Woolsey said. “I can't officially approve, of course, but if it does instill a healthy respect for the unknown into certain problem recruits, well, I'm not involved after all.”

“Of course not,” Rodney said. “Everyone knows I'm in my private lab right now being an ass. No one ever checks.”

Sheppard nodded. At least it meant his fun was safe.

“I hear you play the guitar,” Woolsey said, eying Sheppard. “Have you considered...”

“Nope,” Sheppard said, cutting him off. “Not getting involved. Someone has to cover the front.”

“Besides, he's not that good,” Rodney said.

Sheppard felt insulted even though it was true.

Rodney turned back to the roll-up piano and ran his hands over the smooth glass. Music began to drift around them, echoing in the haunted corridor above.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a [tumblr](http://nebulousmistress.tumblr.com/) where you can find a hundred little fanfics I never posted here. Check it out, drop a line, maybe dare me to write something for you.
> 
> This story resulted from the fact that Robert Picardo, Woolsey's actor, can [sing](https://youtu.be/zMuRtZG1JeE?t=16s).
> 
> The 'haunting' song being sung in the corridor is [The Raven](https://youtu.be/VNGD0Q1J5PY), sung here by a pile of Gregorian monks.


End file.
